I fell off the straight and narrow path of a respectable life, so I decided to go out to sea instead.
I thought that out among the infinite blue waves I would find a world where I could truly be alive. The world of adventure I dreamed of as a kid. That world of dreams, when all I had was a book and my imagination. And yet here I was, in that very world.
A desert island under palm trees. Blazing sun. White sands. An empty stomach. All of it was real. The only thing marking the passage of time was the gentle lapping of waves on the shore. I was stuck on the kind of beautiful island you read about in stories, listening to the raucous cries of the seabirds.
Ever since I was a boy, I’ve wanted to chronicle an adventure in a book. I’d prefer it to be a book like Brag Men, if possible. That’s my favorite book.
It’s a collection of journals from the explorers of the distant past. One particularly famous section tells of Little Garden, the island of giants. Adults made fun of it, claiming that the stories were all lies, but as a child I always wondered, How can they be so sure?
I wanted to see it for myself, rather than believing someone else’s uninformed opinion on the matter. And I wasn’t going to decide what was the truth until I had the chance to see it. That was the kind of person I wanted to be.
That part of me has never changed. Even when that attitude landed me on an uninhabited island that was said to be inescapable.
East Blue. The unbelievably beautiful island of Sixis.
Someone once called it “the island closest to Heaven.” Why did they say that? Because once you’ve set foot on it, you’ll die before you escape.
Across the emerald green shallows, I could see a unique kind of sea current. It pulled anyone on its periphery toward the island, like an antlion of the waves. It ensured that anyone who reached the island was forced to enjoy the final vacation of their life.
I exhaled deeply and sat down in the shade of a palm tree so I could gaze out desolately at the water. Three days had already passed since I got here. It was the worst vacation I’d ever had.
The sea breeze caressed my cheeks, but the acrid tang of the brine in my nose was the unpleasant reality that accompanied it. That, and the sight of a previous visitor to the island: a skeleton resting nearby.
Judging from its clothes, the skeleton had once been a pirate. A rusty pistol was clutched in its bony hand, and fancy rings glittered on its fingers. It was all very dispiriting to look upon. No weapons or jewels were going with you to the afterlife.
The only thing you left behind in this world was bones…
“We’ve had a rough time of it, haven’t we?” I muttered. I felt like I had to, or else I would forget how to use my own voice. If I was going to wind up like him in the near future, I could at least offer up a bit of consolation…
“I must be an idiot…”
I leaned back against the tree and closed my eyes. My throat was parched, so I moistened it with a pittance of saliva. Without realizing it, I’d come under the assumption that I wasn’t going to survive. That was a bad sign.
“C’mon, let’s at least dig a grave. I’ll give you a hand.”
“A grave… Yeah, good idea… Let’s do that…”
It wasn’t fair to the skeleton to leave it to the elements. Best to dig a grave, give him a proper resting place. Whoever’s idea that was, it was a good one.
I swallowed again. That throat of mine was dreadfully dry.
I needed to look for water. I hadn’t had a decent drink in two whole days. If only there were coconuts on this palm tree. Were there monkeys in the jungle behind me? Or was it just the wrong season? Sadly, there was not a single fruit to be seen.
The calls of the seabirds were as raucous as ever. I honed my ears on the lapping repetition of the waves. So much water in the sea, and not a drop to drink…
“Who said that?!”
My eyes popped open and I bolted upright. I was alone on this perfectly empty island, but I could have sworn that I’d just traded words with someone else.
And then I heard the scrunch of sand under shoes. Shining black boots, as a matter of fact. There was a man standing before me. The way he was silhouetted against the glittering reflection of the sea, it was almost as though he were glowing with holy light.
“Oh, hello. It’s nice to make your acquaintance,” the man said politely, with a proper bow. This seemed overly cordial, considering that we were nowhere near any kind of society.
“My name is Ace. I was just enjoying a little stroll along the beach. How do you do?”
The man had a pleasant, friendly smile. His orange hat was nearly blinding in the dappled light beneath the tree. I had to squint as I looked up at him, so he squatted down to my level. A crimson ornament swayed gently around his neck.
Once we were at eye level, I could see that he was a young man with freckles. He was probably around my age, in fact. Something about his lean physique seemed to conjure the sense of chronicles of adventure, and the sound of waves.
This was how I first met Portgaz D. Ace.
I was unable to speak from the shock. All I could do was stare with bulging eyes. Having landed on an uninhabited island, the last thing I expected to find was an inhabitant. The instant he came into view, my brain was already grasping at the word “rescue.”
The man—the savior—who called himself Ace continued, “Sorry to trouble you like this, but my ship’s busted. Help a guy out?”
“You’re in the same predicament as I am!”
Inside my head, I simply screamed. Aaaaaaaaah!
In the whole wide world, and of all its vast seas, how could someone else coincidentally shipwreck on the shore of this ill-fated island at the same time I did? What were the odds? I was witness to a miracle, and it was the crappiest, most useless miracle ever.
Listlessly, I muttered, “My ship was wrecked in the last storm, too. It went down as a donation to Davy Jones, along with most of the cargo. What can I say? Storms put me in a charitable mood.”
My lips were so cracked and dry that they bled as I spoke. It had been too long since I talked to another person.
Davy Jones, by the way, was an old pirate. Legend says that he was cursed by the devil and lives on the seafloor even to this day. So everything that sinks beneath the waves becomes his treasure. Nobody actually believes he’s alive, though; that’s the thing with legends. In fact, if he were alive, I’d take back my contribution. Hey pal, that was actually an accident. Would you mind giving back my stuff?
“I see… Guess we’ve both had a rough time of it,” Ace grinned. The guy sure seemed happy-go-lucky for being shipwrecked.
I realized that his attitude was actually grating on me. Partly it was disbelief that he could smile in a situation like this. The other part was that I didn’t like that he was saying the exact same thing to me that I’d been saying to a skeleton moments ago.
But I couldn’t hold it against him. In an instant, I readjusted my mood. The guy probably had no idea yet of how terrible this island might be. He was an amateur shipwreckee. What the heck is an amateur shipwreckee? Hunger and thirst were making my thoughts fuzzy.
“I’ve been here…for three days now,” I murmured, softly but firmly.
That’s right. I’ve lasted for three whole days. Could you do that? It felt like I was both boasting and challenging him to do the same.
“It’s the sixth day for me. I win.”
“Whaaaaat?!” I yelped. He was worse off than me.
“Anyway, that’s not important. I’m building a raft, but it’s not going well. Would you help me build a ship to get us off this island?” Ace asked cheerfully.
He explained that he’d built two or three impromptu rafts for escape attempts, but nothing worked. He was getting desperate when he happened across me on the beach.
Work together to build a ship…
It was, in a way, an intriguing suggestion. But ultimately it would mean trusting, and tying my fate to, a complete stranger I’d just met moments ago.